don't back down
by onlywordsnow
Summary: somewhere between leaving and coming back something just changes somehow
1. Chapter 1

**don't back down; harvey/donna ; r (and maybe NC-17); 2,571 words;**

**1**

**somewhere between leaving and coming back something just changes somehow**

**a/n: so i have this friend erica who was all "watch suits, it's really good" and so i did and now i don't know what to do anymore because suits, so she wanted me to write baby!fic as she always does so here it starts**

* * *

Harvey Specter doesn't play around, doesn't waste his time, doesn't make decisions that he regrets. He has reasons for this - his reasons are simple, logical, and real. Most importantly, his time is vaulable and his decision are meticulated in a way that shows he doesn't deal with bullshit.

He always liked that about Donna and that's what has made their partnership for the years' work. The truth is, he doesn't know half of what she did for him because he didn't bother to ask and he's never had to. Part of what made them great is the things that they didn't have to say and the things that were never said.

But that doesn't take back what _has_ been said.

He likes to think that the things that have happened don't dictate what's going to happen, but that doesn't ammend the trust that was broken. He gets her anger, understands that she doesn't want to see him and that she reserves every right to call him every nasty name she can think of; he doesn't blame her, but he wants to level with her in a way they leads to resolution. All he wants is a resolution - he can negotiate, he is a closer, but this isn't something that he can do.

And Harvey Specter, he can fucking do anything that he wants to, except fix things with Donna.

* * *

She knows that Jessica never intended for the _firing_ to stick - just to last long enough for a settlement or a resolution so that the firm wasn't liable for more people's actions. When Harvey says the words "I can't be me without you" with such desperation in his voice, emotions scaled in his eyes, she believes it. She chooses to believe it because she knows Harvey better than anyone could.

Harvey fought for her and she fought for him, each in their own way that speaks volumes about what a force they are. They are a team and in all reality nothing can really ever replace that. So he kisses her (or maybe she kisses him, it doesn't matter because the end result is still the same) and everything that's never been said is conveyed in a way that no one else would understand.

It happened on accident. On purpose. Something. Whatever. She doesn't really know exactly how it happened, which is ironic because she's Donna and she knows everything; in fact, part of her still has difficulty believing that any of it actually happened. Given the fact that they've been pretending for so long that nothing will happen between, has ever happened between them. Whatever it is, it takes her by surprise.

He's at her door this time, not just lurking outside on the street, and his knuckles are white like he's been clenching his fists outside of her door for courage. That's how she knows this time is different because Harvey Specter certainly isn't nervous about anything. There isn't anything romantic or climactic about it, it's simply a gesture.

No words pass between them, not like they should. She just lets his gaze trail down the length of her body and take in her appearance. He's in jeans and a button up shirt, a different one than he would wear at work and she absent;ly wonders if maybe he's been walking around for hours.

She reads it on his face, the slight tilt of his head giving her a signal that he's never really given her before. There was that one time but it doesn't count anymore, not for her, not according to anything that really counts. She bends her fingers over the hem of her sleeves, something to help her ignore the way that her palms are getting hot and her breath is caught in her throat.

Their mouths meet and she can't remember who made the first move - if it was her or him or if they met in the middle - and part of her absently wonders if this is just an awkward moment that she thought this was something that she misinterpreted. His lips part, hard pressed against hers as he moves closer and she can feel his muscles through his clothes. His hands lift to her cheeks and slide into her hair.

She silently reminds herself that she is not in love him.

* * *

His clothes are scattered everywhere, discarded carelessly when a sudden urgency rose between them the night before. It wasn't supposed to happen like that, just like it wasn't supposed to happen 2 months ago and a few nights a week ever since. Harvey sits up in bed, his flesh attempting to his inside of itself at the first sign of cold air.

He blinks two or three times before he tilts his gaze in the direction of the redheaded woman in his bed. He reaches out, pats his hand against whatever part of her body is by his hip while he scratches at his eye with his other hand. Donna stirs beside him, rolling onto her side and looking up at him through narrowed eyes.

"Are you staying the night or going home?" He asks, voice scratchy with sleep.

She yawns, her hair curling beneath her chin, "I need to go home."

He smirks at her lack of further movement and lays back into his 300 thread count, gold colored sheets that his secretary picked out for him. The irony isn't lost on him that she picked them out and is now wrapped up in them, but he keeps the thought to himself. He blinks a few more times as she sighs beside him, her lips in a pout that he can only see because the moonlight sneaking in through his blinds.

"Are you gonna get up? Or do I have to get you up?" He asks gently. Their conversations are always different in the dark - they feel different and they sound different. At least to him they do.

Lifting her hand to pinch the bridge of her nose, she peels an eye open to look at him. He meets her eyes, vowing not to break eye contact first. She narrows her gaze, "being with you all the time is tiring. What time is it?"

"Two," he replies easily, ignoring her first comment.

"God, Harvey, if you had my wardrobe I wouldn't have to get out of bed in the middle of the night," she says tiredly, mockingly.

He offers her a lighthearted laugh, reaches over and touches his fingertips to her face. He rolls towards her to face her, his mouth finding hers in the dark with an ease that's easily come between them recently. The feel of her breath against the hollows of his throat makes his eyes momentarily drift closed.

"What if your wardrobe was here?"

She stills for a moment, her fingers twisting the ends of her hair around them; "are you asking me what I think you're asking me?"

"I'm just saying that you can stay, if you want to," he counters with a grin.

"Oh, if _I_ want to?" She mocks dramatically.

He smirks, "okay, then I want you to stay."

"That must have been hard for you," she teases. Her fingers thread into the hair at the back of his head as she offers him a tired smile. He quirks an eyebrow in return, challenging her to go on. She takes the challenge; "all of these feelings. Do you need anything?"

"Donna," he replies, looking at her deadpanned, "just stay. You look tired. It isn't becoming."

"Where's all the sweet talking I heard so much about?" She retorts.

He smirks, "I save that for people who actually appreciate it."

"Why wouldn't I appreciate the great Harvey Specter?"

He smirks in return and she rolls away from him, facing the window and taking his arm with her. He watches her eyes drift closed again and he finally resignates to fully lay down, his arm circled around her torso. He's not used to women sleeping over so this is a first for them both.

"So, I guess you're staying?" He mutters as he buries his nose into her red hair.

Her heel collides with his shin and it makes him grin as his lips find her shoulder. Her leg slides between his and he notes how cold her feet are. She sighs, "shut up and go to sleep, Harvey."

* * *

"Donna, my office," he says sternly, his jaw tight as he side eyes her when she walks by, "now."

She narrows her eyes as her fingers bang away at the keys, not really sure what the sudden demand for her to be in his office might be. She silently goes through a checklist of things that he could maybe be upset about but nothing comes to mind, nothing that he could possibly find out without her telling him. She really needs to tell him, but she can't find it in her to because she doesn't know how he might react.

She swallows and locks her computer before going into his office where he's leaning against the shelving, back to the window. He nods at the door and she catches what he means, so she eases the door shut behind her. Finally, she turns on her heel and faces him, remembering the last time they were in this situation.

There isn't any way that he could have found out that she's pregnant because she just found out. She absently wrings her hands and tucks her bottom lip between her teeth, her usual confident demeanor failing a little. He offers her a tight smile in an attempt to reassure her.

"What are you not telling me?" He starts, "you tell me everything, Donna, but not now. You're keeping something from me and I can tell."

"Since when did you learn to read my facial expressions?" She counters.

"Donna," he replies with a sigh.

"I'd rather not talk about it at work," she concedes.

He tilts his head, "the door's closed. Why not now so we can get back to work without anymore distractions?"

"I'm pregnant, Harvey," she admits with a sigh. It's been 3 months and they haven't had the conversation about what they are and what they aren't. She wasn't ready to talk about it, isn't sure what to tell him. "And I don't know if I'm going to keep it."

She watches his face fall a little as he pushes himself off of the shelf, his feet flattening out against the floor. He takes half steps as she reaches out and clutches the back of the chair for strength. She can't even gauge his reaction, doesn't know what he's thinking and that's a first for her.

"Why are you only just now telling me?" Harvey mutters, eyes piercing hers.

"Because what am I supposed to say, Harvey? You're my boss. This is too complicated. If anyone finds out, I can lose my job or, even worse, you can lose yours," she counters; she laughs bitterly, "you won't be you without this job."

"I won't be me without you. I thought I made that clear," he retorts. He shakes his head, purses his lips together. She can see the anger boiling in his eyes but she isn't sure of the motivation behind it. "You're just going to make a decision like that without telling me?"

"How are we supposed to have a baby when no one in this office even knows about us?" She challenges, her voice raising an octave. She rolls her eyes as her heel digs into the floor, his eyes angrily narrowing at her in response. "Who's going to tell Jessica, huh? Because no matter what, no matter how real this is, it's still against office policy."

"It's more complicated than that," he says; she slightly smirks and he tilts his head in disbelief, "damn it, Donna, were you even planning on telling me?"

"No? I don't know," her eyes tilt away from his, finding solace on a spot on his desk. She lightly shakes her head, trying to decide what she can say next. "I haven't had much time to process it."

"And what if you decide to keep it?" He challenges.

"Then you need to decide if you want to be a dad or if you want to be Uncle Harvey," she counters, lifting a finger at him pointedly.

* * *

Harvey's at her door again, pacing as he pulls at his jogging clothes from his morning jog. He found himself running further than he'd meant to and in a direction that he doesn't usually go, drawn to her and to fixing everything. It doesn't feel the same anymore and he almost can't even fathom how it's gone on this long; their last real conversation was in his office 3 weeks ago.

He sees her at work but it isn't the same. There's a distinct look in the way she's avoiding him, not that he can blame her, but the things have always come between them aren't the things that have been said - it's been the things that haven't been said. He isn't sure that he can what needs to be said.

He knocks anyway and when she answers, he tries to regulate his breathing from his run. She forgoes the greeting, sighs in annoyance and leaves the door open as she goes back into the apartment. He follows her, waiting for her to look at him because he knows that she'll be able to read whatever he has to say all over his face.

He follows her into her kitchen and takes the coffee cup that she offers to him. He takes a sip before he sets it on the counter beside hers, wondering if she's going to break the silence or if she's forcing him to do it. He quirks an eyebrow as she finally meets his gaze and he thinks that maybe he sees a hint of a smile at the corner of her mouth but just as quickly as the thought is there, it's gone.

He swallows, "I told Jessica."

"When?" She asks, voice still hoarse like it usually is early in the morning.

"Last night."

She leans her hip against the counter and lifts the cup to her mouth, muttering behind the ceramic, "what did you tell her?"

"The truth. That we've been seeing each other - that we're going to have a baby. Is there still a baby?"

"Is there still an us?" She counters. She releases a slightly exasperated breath and rolls her eyes, setting her mug back down on the counter. He watches her shake her head, his eyes narrowing in her direction; "it took you 3 weeks to think about it?"

"Donna," he says, nose briefly scrunching in exasperation, "you know I don't say anything that isn't worth saying. I wouldn't have said anything if I didn't think it was worth the risk."

"Please, you live off of adrenaline. You'd risk anything you had to if it gave you a rush," she retorts.

"Not when it comes to you," he said.

She releases a shaky breath, "so, am I fired?"

"No," he tells her with a grin, "that wasn't on the table. She knew better than for that to become an option. Not after the last time."

She lifts her chin a little, eyes tracing his grin, "is that all you came here to say?"

He nods firmly; end of discussion.


	2. Chapter 2

**don't back down; harvey/donna ; r (and maybe NC-17); 2,375 words;**

**2**

**somewhere between leaving and coming back something just changes somehow**

**a/n: so i have this friend erica who was all "watch suits, it's really good" and so i did and now i don't know what to do anymore because suits, so she wanted me to write baby!fic as she always does so here it starts**

* * *

"Do we need to talk?" He asks before she can leave his office. She turns on her heel to face him again, his eyes absently motioning to the chair across from his desk. His jaw tightens as he presses his knuckles into his cheek, "it used to be easy."

"Is that an observation?" She asks. The question is left a bit opended and he isn't sure if she's mocking him or if she's being sincere.

"There's just this feeling between us now," he admits, "like we've left some things unsaid. That isn't like us."

"I don't know. It's late, Harvey. You should go home," she suggests in an attempt to blow him off, "get some sleep. You look like you haven't slept in days."

"I've had a lot on my mind," he starts. He lightly shakes his head and doesn't continue, just fuses his lips together and narrows his eyes. He doesn't look right at her, just absently rubs his knuckles against his jaw. "Donna, wait. I just wanted you to know that if it's something you want to do, then I want to be a dad."

"I couldn't do it. It didn't feel right to do anything without talking to you. I just kept thinking about how if anyone else had been the father, I'd stll want to talk to you and it didn't feel right."

"I need you, Donna," he replies.

A smirk pulls at the corners of her mouth, "I know. What do you want to do, Harvey?"

"I think we should get some dinner, go back to my place, and watch Star Trek," he says with a grin, eyebrows bouncing slightly on his forehead. He doesn't wait for her answer because they don't address what they've been doing really, they just do. One of them kisses the other and everything goes from there; the idea of a baby brought forth opportunity for real conversation. "You're hesitating. Why?"

"Because I'm tired and confused about what your endgame is, Harvey," she counters.

He tilts his head to the side, "I just want you."

"Please don't say things that you don't mean," she concedes.

He leans back in his chair, tilting it in her direction, "you know I don't say things I don't mean."

Her eyes lock on his for a few moments before she laughs a little, her eyes briefly closing as she shakes her head, "you say whatever you have to say to get what you want."

"And I want you," he reiterates with a grin. "What's so hard to believe about that?"

"Harvey-"

"I bought a book," he interrupts, feeling beneath stacks of papers and pulling one out to toss to the end of his desk, "about pregnancy. I just wanted to know if I should read it."

"Read it. Don't read it," she replies without commitment.

"Donna," he whines.

"I'm not trying to play games with you, Harvey. We spend 2 months together and I get why no one knew, but then this all became really real, really fast. It's suddenly important that people know, suddenly important that we figure these things out and I don't even have the energy to talk about them."

"So, I talk," he says as he stands up, "you listen."

She smirks, "I listen to you all day."

* * *

She moves in, or not. He doesn't really know and he doesn't really ask. There's a sense of realism that comes with asking and he doesn't want to bail, but he thinks that maybe she had something that day in her kitchen implying all he wants from life is a rush - he thinks that maybe the real rush could be parenting. But some of her clothes end up in his closet. After that, it's like a ripple effect and his bathroom counter is cluttered with make up and hair products and he can barely find his toothbrush. At one point he wasn't even sure which one was his so he waited until she brushed her teeth and used the other one.

He's new at the relationship thing, isn't even sure what to do so that's one area he tries to take her lead without a fight. He goes to the appointments when she marks them into his schedule and sometimes even when she doesn't. They still are better reading each other than saying the words that go unspoken.

He sighs because she's wearing him out - not necessarily in a bad way, he's just more tired now than he can ever really remember being. She takes care of things without him having to ask, but that doesn't mean she doesn't ask more of him than she did before. She asks it in a way that makes him believe he has no choice but to do it, but it's still difficult getting used to her needing him to do things for her.

He let's her go home earlier than she used to, sometimes he even told her to because she can be stubborn at times. Even now, he's still surprised when he walks in the door of his condo and there's evidence that she's there. Somehow he's convinced himself that she's going to get tired of him soon enough and decide she'd rather be at her apartment.

With the distraction of tuning into the noise on the television and the distinct sound of her sobbing coming from the living room, he trips over her shoes in the entryway. Choking back a grumble, he proceeds further down the hallway with furrowed eyebrows that only deepen when he notices the end of the couch has a pile of laundry. She catches sight of him and sits a little straighter.

"Donna? Is everything okay?" He lightly shakes his head as her red hair slides along the back of his leather couch; he unbuttons his suit jacket, ready to toss it aside, "why are you crying?"

"I'm fine," she answers.

"Are you - are you sure? Did I," he doesn't ask the question because he isn't sure what he's trying to ask her. Instead, he swallows and sits down beside her on the couch while offering her a tight smile. She isn't convinced, he's sure of that. "You can tell me."

"It's nothing," she insists, "I'm just tired. I'm kind of growing a child in my uterus."

"You can go to bed," he replies gently.

"I have so much to do," she says, glancing over his shoulder at the pile of laundry.

"It's okay, I'll pick your shoes up out of the entryway," he counters with a grin; she laughs a little and he relaxes at the sound, "see, that's funny because you were talking about the laundry."

She looks at him pointedly, eyebrow arched warningly as he kicks his own shoes off underneath the coffee table. He pulls his knee up on the couch and faces her, his knee sliding against her leg with the movement. He reaches out and tucks a loose strand of hair behind her ear, fingers trailing down the side of her face.

"Take the night off," he suggests, "we can relax. We can order in. I'll even let you eat in bed."

"Keep talking," she says.

He laughs at that, leaning forward and pressing his lips into hers. It's brief, like a habit, like they've been doing it for as long as he can remember and will still be years from now. He sighs against her mouth at the comfort of familiarity. He lets his hand slide down and fingers lightly press into her stomach, almost starting to show.

"What sounds good?" He ventures.

She laughs in the back of her throat, "what doesn't?"

"All right, then I'll get your favorite," he says with a wink.

Her mouth drops a little, "since when did you know that?"

"I pay attention," he says, leaning forward and pressing his lips to hers again.

* * *

Her lips fuse with his as her fingers grasp his forearm, a certain element of surprise shutting his brain down completely. It takes him a moment to respond, muscles flexing beneath her grasp, but when he does it's her mouth the parts ever so slightly first. He takes the opportunity to slip his tongue out, tease her bottom lip as he drags it across there. He releases a breath, his own hand moving to her hip and slipping around her waist.

His thumb slides over her hipbone, fingernail catching on the material of her dress, and the pads of his fingers appreciate the the soft feel of dark blue. She makes a noise against his mouth, one that he's still getting used to but he thinks was literally the last thing he had left to learn about her. He can't help the smile that pulls on his mouth, her tongue finally giving in and touching his.

Things escalate quickly, the way her fingers find the knot in his tie and tug downward with an ease that indicates experience. Her lips press harder against his and he feels her body flush against his; his fingers find the hem of her dress, pads of his fingers hot on her thigh. His nails scratch against her skin and he swallows the noise that falls out of her mouth. He smirks against her lips, disentangling his mouth to look at her.

His forehead glides against hers, "you feeling okay?"

"Never better," she replies offhand; he watches her breath hitch as his fingers pull upward and tease the skin between her thighs.

"You've been very adamant about not doing this here," he says with a smirk. He tilts his head a little as he pushes up on her dress to reveal more skin. The way she absently shrugs isn't lost on him, like she knows they're crossing a line but it isn't a line she hasn't crossed before. "You're unusually happy."

"I'm always happy," she counters, digging her nails into his skin, "and it's a slow day. I'm bored. Stop talking and amuse me or I'll find someone who can."

"Are you threatening me?" He asks with a quirked eyebrow.

She bats her eyelashes, "I would never. Think of it as curing boredom."

"I'm kind of busy," he retorts teasingly, "not sure that I have time."

"It won't take long," she mutters.

His eyebrows narrow as she loosens his tie just a little before her hands slide down his chest. It doesn't take long, like she said, before her hands are undoing his belt buckle. He's pleasantly surprised by her lack of underwear and he briefly wonders if this was her plan all along (and then come more questions like _Did she leave the condo with any on? If she didn't, at what point was he not paying attention enough for her to neglect putting them on?_)

His thoughts are scrambled but completely ignored when she slips her hand into his boxers. Her watch catches on his waistband and he inhales a deep breath, fingers sliding into her. She grabs him by the wrist and moves his hand away with a firm shake of her head; smirking, he pushes his hands into her hips and lifts her as the pants of his expensive suit hit the ground - he fights a grimace.

"I will take your suit to the dry cleaners after this and you can put on your spare," she says with a sigh and a quick roll of the eyes.

Her legs squeeze around his waist, his fingers fluttering against her skin as he covers her mouth with his, a sloppy distraction as he pushes into. Her mouth separates from his as she releases a quiet moan that she has difficulty keeping quiet. He pulls a face, lifting a hand and covering her mouth.

"Shhh," he mutters, "I'm pretty sure that just because everyone knows doesn't mean we can freely tear one off in the bathroom. Is the door locked?"

"Oh, honey," she laughs, "the door doesn't lock."

He quirks an eyebrow and lifts his hand, sliding it into her hair and kissing her. Her mouth moves against his, her fingers finding their way around the lapels of his suit jacket. Her hair curls around his fingers, hugging the base of his digits as he thrusts forward.

He presses her harder into the wall, her teeth nipping at the corner of his mouth. He hears his name fall off of her lips, the smirk on his lips forming against her mouth. He feels her hot breath trail over his cheek when she laughs in the depths of her throat, the gentle bellow echoing in his ears and driving the pads of his fingers to the base of her neck.

He thrusts again, her mouth pulling away from his and her teeth clamping down on his neck. His cheek slides along her as he slips a hand between them, his thumb circling around her clit. The motions are familiar, a grunt against her throat as his breath collects in a cloud between them. It beats on her skin, the moisture beading as her neck flushes.

The warmth gathers in the pit of his stomach as her movements meet his and it doesn't take much, just a push of the finger against her as his tongue slides along her jaw. Her muscles tense around him and it's slow and fast at the same time, the way they both reach their peak together. She laughs as their breath collides in the air between them and he proceeds to lazily press his mouth against hers.

The bathroom door opens and closes and he stills, muscles in his shoulders tightening. His eyes widen as she just smirks, his fingers digging into the back of her thigh. He detaches himself from her, her hands pressing into his jaw as she guides his mouth back to hers. She distracts him just long enough for him to relax.

He breathes again, finally, and gets his attire in order with her fingers expertly fixing his tie. He opens the stall door and tries to ignore her hand on his hip as she follows closely behind. He tilts his head and smiles carefully.

"Hey, Rachel," he mutters at the same time that Donna says _hey, Rach_; he shifts his gaze towards the redhead, "decent?"

"Decent," she agrees.


	3. Chapter 3

**don't back down; harvey/donna ; r (and maybe NC-17); 2,222 words;**

**3**

**somewhere between leaving and coming back something just changes somehow**

**a/n: so i have this friend erica who was all "watch suits, it's really good" and so i did and now i don't know what to do anymore because suits, so she wanted me to write baby!fic as she always does so here it starts**

* * *

Harvey sits down on the couch in Jessica's office, eying her carefully. He quirks an eyebrow, hoping it has nothing to do with the bathroom incident a few days ago. He's pretty sure that as Donna's friends, Rachel wouldn't pass that information around. But that doesn't mean Jessica didn't somehow find out.

Jessica clutches her drink in her hand, something that he knows by now that she only does when she has information she really doesn't want to reveal. He swallows, bracing himself for some kind of fall. Figures that something would go wrong just when everything was starting to go right.

"Harvey, I-" she starts but cuts herself off.

He narrows his eyes, "what?"

"The client won't sign with us."

"Why not?" He asks, head shaking and eyebrows furrowing in question.

Jessica tucks her bottom lip into her mouth, eyes drifting away with uncertainty; "he said that he would take it into consideration if he could take Donna to dinner."

"What?" Harvey's face fell as he pushed himself to his feet, "you're telling me that he'll only sign with the firm if he can take my pregnant girlfriend on a date? This is unbelievable."

"It's for the firm," Jessica retorts.

He sighs, "this is one thing I can't let happen for the firm. Donna would never go for it."

"Harvey-"

"Jessica," he interrupts, "it's taken us a long time to get on the same page and now that we finally are you want me to encourage her to go on a date with a client in an effort to buy him? Have more integrity than that."

He shakes his head and leaves her office, ignoring the quirked eyebrow he receives before he can leave. He tries not to huff too loudly as he enters his office, jarring his shoulder against the glass window on his way in. He inhales a deep breath and ignores the eyes locking on him from across the room as he sits down in the chair behind his desk and turns to look out of the window.

He sits in silence for a few minutes before he releases an exaggerated breath, "Donna."

"What?" She asks through the intercom.

He smirks as he turns his chair and the lock eyes, "that client?"

"The one with the wandering eyes?" She confirms.

He chuckles a little in the back of his throat, "yeah. He ask you to out?"

"Yes," she answers.

"Did you tell him to fuck off?"

She smirks, "I told him that my boyfriend probably wouldn't be too happy if another man showed up at our house to take me to dinner."

"When did you move in?" He asks with a laugh.

She sits up a little straighter, jaw tightening and her eyebrows raising on her forehead, "is that a question you really want answered?"

"I just wanted to be sure we're on the same page," he says with a wink.

* * *

"How many secrets do you have from me?" He asks in surprise; he moves his legs in the bed as her cold feet touch his skin, "get your cold feet off of me."

"Okay, sometimes me and Louis re-enact Shakespeare in the copy room," she admits.

He stares at her deadpanned for a few moments before his lips form a smirk, "you what?"

"And I go to the associate's break room because they have Cheetos," she adds.

He chokes back a laugh as he throws his leg over hers hoping to keep her cold feet off of him, his arm sliding beneath her pillow. He shakes his head, fingertips brushing over hers as he seeks out her hand to entwine their fingers. He hovers his lips over the exposed skin of her shoulder, a smile seemingly glued to his face.

"If you want Cheetos I can be sure you have an endless supply," he comments, "anything else that I need to know?"

"Just one more thing," she starts. He lifts his eyebrows in question as he drops his lips to her skin. He drags his lips up her neck and kisses her jaw, encouraging her to speak. "I sold my apartment today."

"Okay," he says slowly.

"I didn't know if that would bother you," she replies absently.

He releases a breath just below her ear, the warmth of his breath tickling his chin. He lightly shakes his head as he mutters a _no_ against her skin, his fingers slipping beneath the hem of her shirt to slide his fingers over her stomach. She turns her body towards his and he grins when she wraps her arms around his torso.

He pushes his fingers beneath her chin and tilts her mouth towards his, briefly pressing his lips against hers; "why would it bother me?"

"Because you're losing your man space to a girl?"

"And a baby," he adds absently; he lightly shakes his head, "besides, I can't picture my life without you."

"Is that the Harvey Specter equivalent to _I love you_?" She questions.

He smiles against her mouth, "maybe."

* * *

"Twenty weeks? What is that like five months?" Mike asks, eyebrows furrowing, "I don't understand. Did you guys get drunk or something? Where was I?"

"First of all," Harvey starts, "you have nothing to do with my relationship with Donna and you never have. Second, it wasn't planned but we were sober."

"Since when did you have a relationship with Donna?" Mike asks rhetorically with a laugh.

"Fourteen years," Harvey replies with a pointedly sarcastic face. He tosses the file across his desk and points at a certain line in it that catches Mike's attention. Glancing at Donna's desk, he notes that she isn't there. No wonder she hasn't chimed in yet. "We've been seeing each other for the last seven months?"

His voice poses a little bit of question; not the uncertainty, Mike quirks an eyebrow, "you don't even know?"

"The days kind of blur together," Harvey admits, quickly adding, "but that doesn't change the fact that we haven't been seeing other people for quite a long time."

"I don't know," Mike says with a light shake of his head, "is this a good idea? Is it too late to get out?"

"Pretty sure," Harvey counters. He missed when Donna returned to her desk but he catches her eye when she casts him a smirk. He winks at her and shifts his gaze back to Mike. "Besides, then we'd have a moody Donna, you-"

"Hey," she chimes in warningly.

Harvey smirks.

* * *

"Is this one mine or yours?" Harvey asks as he lifts an iPad off of the counter in the kitchen.

He drags a hand over his chest expectantly, his fingers lazily catching on the cotton of his gray t-shirt. He pretends that it isn't increasingly warm in the apartment from his early morning Saturday run; his shoes squeak on the floor from the puddle of water he ran through in the park and she quirks an eyebrow warningly at him. He grunts and kicks his shoes off, biting his tongue and keeping his comment about how strict she is from coming out of his mouth.

Finally, she shrugs in answer to his question, "does it really matter?"

"It might," he challenges.

She rolls her eyes as she bites back a smirk, "is that where you left it?"

He narrows his eyes and swallows at the same time, "are you being difficult right now?"

"Right now?" She counters.

"You can be pleasant sometimes," he replies with a laugh. He decides it doesn't matter and grabs the tablet off of the counter on his way to the living room. He drops onto the couch beside her, sitting oddly close in an effort to torture her. He unlocks the device and a screen pops up that he wasn't expecting. "This is clearly yours."

"So it is," an eyebrow pops up on her forehead as she glances at the iPad in his lap. He looks at her pointedly and she takes a sip of her tea - not quite enough to replace coffee but better than nothing. She sighs and slaps his thigh. "What? I'm a bored, pregnant woman who reads about babies. What's your point?"

"Let's look at your history," he replies teasingly, reading off of the list, "baby clothes, baby toys, baby furniture, baby names. Jesus, you must have been up all night."

"You try sleeping with a baby in your uterus," she mutters.

He smirks, "I'll get right on that."

"You're just upset because I was looking at baby stuff without you," she says teasingly.

"Well, kind of. I thought that was something we'd do together."

"I didn't want to waste your time and have you look at everything when I can just give you options to pick from," she admits. His eyes lock on hers and he briefly wonders if this is an actual conversation they're having - not like they usually have conversations like this on a Saturday morning or anything. "I only bother you with the really important things.".

"If it has to do with my kid then it's important," he reminds her. She doesn't say anything, just offers him a slightly apologetic glance. He accepts her apology by leaning over and pressing his lips against hers, a movement that is rapidly becoming automatic. "How about you wake me up if you can't sleep? I'll be more than happy to entertain a beautiful woman in the middle of the night."

"Oh please, you sleep in the middle of the bed, you still aren't used to sharing."

"I only sleep in the middle so I can be closer to you," he corrects charmingly.

She laughs and shakes her head, "put the Specter charm away. I'm not falling for it."

"Oh, baby," he remarks sarcastically, "I'm pretty sure I can change your mind."

He tilts his body towards hers and grabs her by the hips, tugging on her as he leans down and covers her lips with his. His sweat slicked shirt touches her chin and she cries out in protest. He makes sure to wipe his forehead on her neck before he pushes his fingers up beneath the hem of the Harvard t-shirt she has on.

"Harvey Reginald Specter," she says warningly.

"Did you just full name me?" He asks with furrowed eyebrows, "how long have you known that?"

"Please, I know everything about you," she replies with a laugh; he opens his mouth to refute but she distracts him by pressing her lips against his, fingers tugging on his shirt.

* * *

She catches a glimpse of herself in the mirror and she thinks that, probably for the first time in her adult life, she's never looked more unsexy. She doesn't say this, never says it to anyone, but the look on her face is one of disgust. There's just something about the way that her stomach looks a little bloated, her skin is a shade that can't be replicated on the color wheel, and her hair just will not cooperate.

For a brief moment, she considers calling in sick to work (until she remembers that her boyfriend is her boss and he knows better). Besides, what kind of secretary would she be if she were to just call in sick because she felt like it? Not to mention, her boss didn't understand her system and would be calling her all day and then come home irritated because nothing went right that day and he'd spend half of the night grumbling.

So, she should just go in.

She's just going to save her boss/boyfriend/baby daddy (_that's a lot of b's_, she silently adds) the trouble and just go into work. Not that he could make it an entire day without her; he couldn't read the calendar and then she'd just end up coming in eventually because he'd be short with her on the phone and she'd want to slap him. She'll just save them both the unnecessary stress and go into work. That doesn't change the fact that that she wants to do anything but go into work and she really would rather not catch a glimpse of herself in the mirror.

"You look nice," he attempts to reassure her.

Her eyebrow pops upwards on her forehead as she shifts her gaze to his in the mirrow; he can read her mind, apparently. Her voice drips with shock as she turns her head on to glance at him over her shoulder. Her body slowly follows and she tilts her head, "thanks."

"Don't look so surprised," he retorts with a smirk, "you've always been beautiful and you know it."

"Knowing it and hearing it are two very different things," she counters.

He nods in acknowledgement, lips turning into a thin line, "I don't tell you enough."

"You don't tell me at all," she challenges.

"Nonsense," he disagrees, "I don't have to say it. You know what I'm thinking."

"I would really hate to inconvenience you," she replies.

"Don't be a drama queen," he smirks. His hand slides over her waistline to touch her stomach, fingertips tapping against her ribcage until he gets a small smile in return. He leans forward and presses his lips against the corner of her mouth - she barely returns it and he can tell that she's wondering what his mood is about. He supplies, "maybe I'm just happy. You ready to go?"


	4. Chapter 4

**don't back down; harvey/donna ; r (and maybe NC-17); 1,836 words;**

**4**

**somewhere between leaving and coming back something just changes somehow**

**a/n: so i have this friend erica who was all "watch suits, it's really good" and so i did and now i don't know what to do anymore because suits, so she wanted me to write baby!fic as she always does so here it starts**

* * *

She rolls over and catches a glimpse of Harvey's face, jealous that his eyes are sealed shut and his breathing is slow, rhythmic because he's sound asleep. Sure enough, he is still poised in the middle of the California king size bed after all this time they've shared it; silently, she wonders if he will ever get used to it or if he is just destined to be a habitual bachelor. She silently corrects herself because he has been rather accomadating, aside from the sleeping thing.

A shiver runs through her and penetrates her skin as she sits upright in the bed, tugging the blankets up with her in an attempt to keep the cold from getting in. She glances at the nightstand to see what time it is, inwardly groaning when her phone lights up at the press of a button to see that it's between 2 and 3. She really doesn't want to wake him up, really doesn't want to deal with a grumpy Harvey all day at work tomorrow.

She leans against the headboard and folds her arms over her chest, her eyes drifting to the father of her unborn child. She looks at him, lip curling because she has conflicted feelings - he looks so peaceful and she finds him almost adorable, but _he's asleep and she isn't_. What she wouldn't give to sleep through the night just one more time before the baby is born.

She thinks that if she lets him sleep, he'll be easier to get along with tomorrow and it will balance out how difficult she may be. Especially since this is the 5th time she's woken up since going to bed. She gives in, considering his request a few days ago to wake him up, and pushes her fingers into his chest.

"Harvey," she says lightly, trying not wake him with too much force.

He peels an eye open expectantly as if he was waiting for her to get his attention; he releases a groan, "what's up?"

"I can't sleep."

"What's the matter?" He asks, pushing himself up on his elbow.

"I just can't get comfortable," she admits. The corners of his mouth turn upwards in a smirk as he forces his body upright so he can lean back against the headboard. She knows that if she doesn't get him talking that he's going to fall back to sleep real fast. He absently scratches at his face as he yawns behind his palm, "there's something wrong with this mattress."

He laughs tiredly, "there's nothing wrong with the mattress. You picked it out. Baby keeping you up again?"

"There's just a lot to prepare for and we've been working late so there hasn't been much time to talk about many things baby related and we're running out of time," she rambles; he lifts a hand to silence her.

"Honey," he says, borderline teasing yet mockingly, "you talk too much. We can go to lunch tomorrow and talk about these things, not in the middle of the night."

"You have that lunch meeting," she reminds him.

He sighs, "right. Dinner tomorrow?"

"You have that merger."

"Okay," he acknowldges slowly, rolling his head on his shoulders, "we'll put it off for one night."

"Please," she laughs, looking at him pointedly, "you're not putting it off."

"Then I'll have Mike handle it," he replies as he returns her pointed gaze. He twists his mouth upward in an attempt to challenge her, lightly shaking his head. She rolls her eyes in response which makes his lips form a half-assed smile. "We'll come home at a decent time, order in, and talk about anything and everything baby. That way, you don't have to keep having this conversation with your iPad."

"I don't know," she starts, "it generally agrees with me about all of the things I like."

He quirks an eyebrow, "don't lie, you love to argue almost as much as I do."

"No, I like knowing that I am the only person in the city who can beat _Harvey Specter_," she says, his name dazzled for effect.

He laughs and lightly shakes his head. He leans in her direction, stretches his hand out and touches his fingers to her jaw as he presses his mouth against hers. She leans into him, breath hot as her body automatically reacts to his touch. Finally, after these passed few months, they are beginning to sync up.

Her mouth parts beneath his, the cracks in her lips catching on the cracks in his from the air reflecting the beginnings of winter. Her tongue darts out and presses against his lips, wetting them and smoothing the cracks out. His fingers push into her hair, her own hands managing to flatten out against his chest as they trail down his front.

She doesn't know the intent, doesn't know that she could let it end now if he were to try. Luckily for her, when her worn and chipped nails slip just below the hem of his shirt and scratch at his skin, he arches his body towards hers and angles himself in a way that she would think hurts him. His fingers trail down her neck, coming to rest on her growing stomach before trailing to her hip; she sighs against his mouth when his thumb digs into her skin.

She can feel the warmth of his breath against her skin, trailing over every pore and fondling the tiny hairs that peek out of her skin. He pushes his fingers into the muscles of her back to tug her onto him, more of a suggestion than a command. She complies because her boyfriend doesn't need words to communicate; she thinks that's what makes them work.

* * *

"I don't think I like this _Harvey and Donna_ stuff," Mike says with a pout. Harvey gives him a look that's pure amusement, but mostly because he can see Donna giving Mike a look that could kill and the kid can't. Harvey tilts his head in a silent encouragement to explain. "You two are always so in sync and you're so difficult to deal with."

"Weren't we before?" Donna replies with a quirked eyebrow.

"Why do I get the feeling that this is a trick question?" Mike muses.

"I don't think there's a right or wrong answer," Harvey supplies, a gaze on Donna for clarity that what he's saying is right.

Donna laughs at Mike's squirming, "which reminds me, tonight you work while we play."

"Is that some kind of metaphor," Mike starts, "you know what? Nevermind. I don't want to know."

"You get that merger done and I might give you Saturday off," Harvey adds with a smirk.

"He gets the merger done and he _will_ get Saturday off," Donna corrects, "Momma needs to go shopping."

"Oh god," Harvey murmers.

Mike's nose contorts in confusion, "did you just call yourself _momma_? I thought you would be disgusted by that term."

"This is a baby we are talking about, Michael. Not a manchild," she replies, looking at Mike pointedly.

Harvey points across his desk, "I am not going to carry all of your bags."

She laughs and rolls her eyes, "don't be a wuss."

"I'll go with you," Mike volunteers.

"Back off," Harvey snaps, eyes narrowing at Mike. His face slowly slides into a smirk as Mike's mouth parts in confusion. He signs the last piece of paper that Donna has for him before lifting his eyes back up. "How about me and her go and if we need anything we'll give you a call?"

"What are you shopping for?"

"That's what we're going to discuss tonight while you do the merger," Donna counters.

"Yeah, well, you'll do it because I tell you to," Harvey adds.

Mike grumbles.

* * *

"You're late," Donna observes as Harvey closes the front door behind him.

He offers her an apologetic smile, "I know. I'm sorry. Everything broke the moment you left."

"How would you ever make it without me?" She asks with a playful smirk.

"I ask myself that very question every day," he counters, the corner of his mouth tugging upwards. He sighs and places the bags of food on the counter in the kitchen, her hand skimming over his waistline as she walks by him. She reaches up into the cabinet for two plates as he pulls the cartons of food out of the bags. "And then there was this whole thing of Jessica wanting to chat before I left. The food place was busy. I just wanted to get home to keep my woman happy."

She stills and quirks an eyebrow at him, face showing no other emotion, "please don't ever say that again."

"Yeah," he agrees, "that did sound pretty weird. Anyway, I was thinking..."

"That's never good," she muses teasingly, "what were you thinking?"

"That you should start sleeping in the middle of the bed with me," he replies with a smirk.

She shakes her head, opening the chicken alfredo, "I tried that once. You managed to push me back over to my side."

"I'm really still not used to it?" He asks, eyebrows furrowing in confusion, "I don't see how I'm not used to sharing the bed by now."

"You need to get used to it before I decide that you could be sleeping on the couch," she replies.

"Hey now, that isn't fair," he objects, "you're a blanket hog. Maybe that's why I sleep in the middle."

"I'm sure it is," she counters, her voice dripping with sarcasm. She takes a bite of the shrimp out of his dish and he gives her a look that she ignores. She's only mildly impressed on the way that they aren't tired of each other after a long day of work. That's even if they manage to see each other much. "We need to discuss what you're going to do when I go on maternity leave."

"We will," he reassures, "but first, we have plenty of other decisions to make."

His phone rings in his suit coat pocket and she absently licks her fingers before reaching into it to get it out; he narrows his eyes at her as she presses the answer button and lifts the phone to her ear, "yes, Mike?"

"Is Harvey there?" Mike asks through the phone.

She smirks, "I'm fielding his calls. He's off tonight."

"Ugh," Mike groans, "fine. I just had a question."

"What's your question?" She asks. Harvey takes a half step towards her, holding his hand out for the phone. She lifts a finger up to ward him off.

"Nevermind. It can wait."

"Very good," she replies, smiling triumphantly. She hangs up the phone and slips it back into Harvey's pocket. He sighs in defeat, realizing that this will be his life now. "Now, first decision to make. Do you want to turn your office into a nursery or move?"

"Those are my only options?" He scoffs.

She shrugs absently and leans forward to briefly press her lips into his, "unless you have any better ideas."


	5. Chapter 5

**don't back down; harvey/donna ; r (and maybe NC-17); 1,249 words;**

**5  
**

**somewhere between leaving and coming back something just changes somehow**

**a/n: so i have this friend erica who was all "watch suits, it's really good" and so i did and now i don't know what to do anymore because suits, so she wanted me to write baby!fic as she always does so here it starts**

* * *

He involuntarily pouts when he feels her move further away, glad that his moment of weakness is concealed by the darkness surrounding them. He's had an unnatural amount of difficulty falling asleep but has been pretty keen on knowing that she's asleep. When she moves, he realizes differently.

He swallows, a rush of cold air sneaking beneath the blankets, "where are you going?"

"To the bathroom," she replies with a tired laugh. She isn't gone very long and she leaves the bathroom door cracked, the light sneaking into the bedroom, but he still has to laugh at himself for having a minor panic attack. He thinks he knows why he's tossing and turning; he won't admit to it though. She flicks the light off once washing her hands, "I know you're excited but sometimes the baby likes to play the drums on my bladder."

"Ha ha," he counters, "I just didn't want you to think I was asleep."

"Oh, I know you're awake. You keep kicking me in the shin," she returns, crawling back into bed, "do it again and you're sleeping on the couch."

"Oh, please," he counters with a grin, "like you'd willingly give up your personal space heater."

He drapes his arm over her waist and tuck his hand beneath her to tug her back to the middle. Sliding his arm beneath her pillow, he snuggles back under the blankets. He touches her neck with his mouth, teeth unintentionally nipping at skin. He releases a breath and he feels her shake against him, a chill clearly coursing through her.

"Would you stop that? Do your damn job," she snaps.

It takes him a moment to realize she's kidding. Really, it takes her threading her fingers with his. His nose slides just below her ear as he forces out a pout, a puff of warm air colliding with her skin.

"Oh, now you seem to be enjoying my presence," he teases.

"I just got out of bed in the middle of the night to pee," she replies deadpanned, "and it's cold in here because our bedroom walls are made of glass. Don't start complaining now."

He laughs, fingers sliding over her ribs; she turns beneath his touch, his hand resting on her baby bump, "I'm just really glad to be with someone that doesn't drive me crazy."

"I do too," she corrects.

"Shut up," he counters with a laugh, "you know I love you."

He feels her body stiffen beneath his hands. He can't help but laugh a little bit more at how ridiculously foreign the words sound coming at of his mouth when he's probably truthfully loved her for years. He taps his index finger against her stomach in an attempt to lull her back to reality.

They so insanely comfortable with the motions but they tense at the words; she relaxes finally, "you know I love you, right?"

"I had my suspicions," he says.

* * *

His hair is dark, no traces of blonde in it at all - one of the side effects of the colder season because he doesn't go outside as much. His eyes reflect the amount of sleep he actually got, a long night of him being excited about the appointment today. His leg bounces up and down as if he's anxious; it's driving her fucking crazy.

Her hand slams down on his thigh, stilling the movements as he looks at her with a narrowed gaze. He silently goads her in a way that no one else would be able to tell. The signs are all there - the way his eyes slant downward, how his jaw tightens yet flexes simultaneously, that his lips part in a way that his tongue can barely slide across them. Her fingers wrap around his thigh and his eyes immediately widen; she wins.

"I'm sorry," he says sharply, "I can't help it."

"You sure have become apologetic in your old age," she retorts.

He smirks, "that happens when you find someone who loves you."

He isn't typically one for cheesy but he's tired, and eager but mostly tired. He leans forward and presses his lips to the corner of her mouth. He extends his finger and slides it over the back of her hand, triumph coarsing through his veins when he sees a chill rack through her body. She sees the grin on his face and she knows what he's doing.

"Don't turn on that Specter charm," she says, pointing an accusatory finger at him.

"I didn't do anything," he says, lifting a hand in innocence, "I just keep seeing this pretty redhead everywhere I go and I can't concentrate."

"Oh, so that's been your problem for the last 13 years," she muses sarcastically, "I will be sure to note that. It's unfortunate that you have glass walls everywhere you go, can't get a moment to take a phone call without a distraction."

"I do live a rough life," he agrees with a nod of the head.

She quirks an eyebrow, "uh huh, sure seems like it."

Before their banter can go any further, a nurse calls them back into a room and they get settled in; he grins, "you ready to find out if we're having a boy or a girl?"

"So that you'll sleep tonight?" She counters with a smirk, "yes."

* * *

His eyebrow quirks as her knee bounces against his, his eyes shifting through the words on the papers in his lap in an attempt to get some work done while they're stuck in traffic. The traffic is barely moving and they're still across town from the office; almost half an hour and they've moved approximately 4 blocks. His eyes finish the sentences before he shifts his gaze towards hers.

"Look at-"

She smirks, interjecting, "I've read it."

"Calm down, hormones," he bites back teasingly, "I'm just trying to be sure that I'm reading what I think I'm reading."

"You are," she replies.

He snorts, "okay, _miss know it all_, how do you know what I'm talking about in this twenty-eight page pre-nup?"

"Because I know you," she counters. Her eyes slide to his and he sees the glint resting in them, the way the corner of her mouth tugs upward as she shifts in her seat. He narrows his gaze, challenges her for a few moments before his face slides into a grin. She concedes but not without the slightest hints of gloating tracing her features, "and because when I read it I thought the same thing."

"How do you know what I'm thinking?"

She laughs, "because I've spent the last thirteen years of my life training to read your every thought and anticipating your actions and reactions. Face it, you don't have many secrets for me. In fact, I probably have more than you."

"You better not," he counters, "or what will our child think of you?"

"She'll thank me one day for telling you that you're never getting a gun," she says pointedly.

"Well, she won't keep any secrets from me," he replies decidedly, reaching over and pressing his hand against her stomach, "she's going to be a perfect angel."

She laughs, "she won't be getting that from you."

"Please, her mom's the devil," he teases.

She scoffs, smacks him in the chest. He retracts his hand with a smirk. He leans his shoulder against hers as he leans into her, glad that he's met with a smile when she closes the space between them and meets his lips with her own.


	6. Chapter 6

**don't back down; harvey/donna ; r (and maybe NC-17); 1,258 words;**

**6**

**somewhere between leaving and coming back something just changes somehow**

**a/n: so i have this friend erica who was all "watch suits, it's really good" and so i did and now i don't know what to do anymore because suits, so she wanted me to write baby!fic as she always does so here it starts**

* * *

He cringes when he hears a box drop heavily on his wood floor from the other room. He pushes himself to his feet and goes through the French doors in a restricted rush. His eyebrows are furrowed but she catches him in the hallway before he can make it into the living room; she knows him well enough that she could foresee his reaction.

Her hands circle his wrists, keeping him from actually making it very far away from his study; "that's real wood, not that faux shit."

"Honey, they're movers. This is what they do," she says with a small smile.

He winces, reaches out and wraps his hand around her waist to tug her to him, "you don't have that much stuff, right?"

"I have my stuff," she replies pointedly.

Her fingers thread with his as another box hits the floor and his eyes dart back into the direction of the living room; he huffs, "but you had to move it all right now?"

"I sold my apartment," she reminds him, "I couldn't leave my stuff there any longer. We close on Monday."

"When did you even do all of this?" He questions; he winces as he hears wheels slide over the floor.

"I'm that good," she reminds him again.

"You're cute but you have to tell me these things," he counters with a bit of annoyance.

She smirks, "you act like I don't take care of everything anyway."

"Regardless," he says, "I didn't know this is what we're doing today."

"We are hardly doing anything," she replies with a laugh, "you're paying them good money to do this, let them do it."

"Am I paying them to get it into the house so _I_can move the boxes the rest of the way," he asks, snidely.

She shrugs half-heartedly, "maybe I think it would be nice to watch a very good looking guy get all hot and sweaty. And you're not too bad to look at."

"I can think of other ways to fullfill that for you," he counters, eyebrow rising suggestively on his forehead.

She leans in really close, the feel of her cheek sliding over his distracting him from the noise in the other room, "I'm sure you can."

He tilts his head at her, nearly giving in before he regains himself, "no, you go babysit them and make sure nothing happens to our floors or our furniture."

"I like the way you're calling it _our_now," she comments with a smirk.

"You're lucky you're hot," he mutters as he steps back to put distance between them; he disappears back into the study.

* * *

He nearly trips over a box on his way in the front door, legs like jello after his run through Central Park per Donna's request. After one too many freak outs over the noises the movers were making from the boxes, she'd kicked him out of the apartment. He begrudgingly did as he was told but mostly because her pregnancy mood swings could be terrifying.

His eyebrows furrow at the silence, noting that the movers are clearly gone, but the apartment is oddly dark for it to be pretty early in the evening. He kicks off his shoes beside the door remembering the last time he went through Central Park and Donna snapped at him. He walks into the bedroom, surprised when he finds her asleep in the middle of the bed.

As adorable as he may think she is, he climbs onto the bed and pushes his fingers into her hair. She stirs, slowly peeling an eye open to look up at whoever is disturbing her. He offers her a small smile as he leans down to kiss her.

He slides down furth into the bed and circles his arms around her; she groans in response, "you smell horrible."

"Well, geez, and to think I was being sweet for once," he mutters with a grin.

"I'm sorry, honey," she says tiredly, "I just, pregnancy hormones enhances everything."

"I can go," he says, making a move to leave.

Her fingers grasp his waist, nails digging into his skin through his gray t-shirt, "don't you dare."

"Tired from all that moving?"

She huffs, letting her hand drop lower to slip beneath his shirt and absently drag her fingers along his skin, "don't mock me."

"Me? I would never," he feigns offense, "I can't believe you would think such a thing about me."

"Shut up," her hand slaps against his stomach, "I forget how difficult you are on a daily basis."

"Yeah, well, you're a treasure yourself," he counters with a grin. His lips slide over her forehead, his fingers moving to her chin to tilt her mouth upward. He covers her mouth with his, lets the warmth tangle between them as his tongue slides over her bottom lip for a brief moment. She sighs as he pulls back, "you smell nice."

"That's because you smell like a caveman," she whispers in return.

His face contorts teasingly, "do you ever stop complaining?"

"I never said," she starts, pushing her lips into his as she slides her hands further up his back, "that it didn't turn me on."

"You have a funny way of showing it," he mutters against her lips.

She laughs gently and it tickles his lips, "I like to remain unpredictable."

"Oh baby," he teases, "you surprise me every day just by existing."

"Either I'm still asleep or becoming a daddy is making you soft," she says against his lips.

The warmth lingers there for a moment as his hand slips up her shirt, "I'm hardly soft."

He pushes his hips against hers and he is clearly not soft. She pushes her tongue into the corner of her mouth as she pulls her hands between them, feeling him through his shorts. He smirks at how natural the movement is, how easily they fit together.

"No," she agrees, "you're not soft, are you?"

"I'm like a trojan horse," he remarks with a grin.

She smirks in return, "yes, well, you clearly don't know how to use a Trojan."

"It takes two, baby," he counters. He presses his lips into hers, her skin soft beneath his fingertips as he slides his hand up her spine. He feels her shiver beneath his touch, a smile pressed to his mouth. "Have I told you thank you?"

"Once, but that was a long time ago," she tells him cheekily.

He laughs gently, "well, aren't you just cute?"

"Yes," she agrees, "you seem to find something about me irresistably attractive."

"I know," he mutters against her skin, lips pressed lazily in the spot between her jaw and her neck, "don't tell anyone though."

"I think it's pretty obvious that at least once you found me attractive," she replies with a smirk.

"What if I start telling people that she isn't mine?"

She smacks him in the chest, fingers immediately circling his ribcage and squeezing, "you'd break your daughter's heart before she even makes it into this world?"

"I demand a paternity test," he mutters; his words ghost on her skin, a chill skating through her. He can see her tightened jaw even in the darkened space between them and he offers her a smirk. He thinks the daggers in her eyes are going to stab him. "Joke too far?"

"Far enough that if you keep talking you'll probably end up on the couch," she warns.

He grins and nods, her fingers pressing hard into his ribcage as he presses his mouth against her skin, "point made."


End file.
